


Fingertips

by leoben



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gablepot, M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoben/pseuds/leoben
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabe contemplates Oswald's impact and how he fits in...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Millicentcordelia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MillicentCordelia/pseuds/MillicentCordelia) for reading before I posted, and for bringing Gabe's gloves to my attention in the first place ;)
> 
> This is possibly part 1 in a series, we'll see how it goes.

Gabe leaned back on the couch in Oswald's meeting room, clutching a full beer. He knew his boss wouldn't be back for at least a couple hours. He'd gone off with Gordon to take care of Galavan; had insisted on going alone. It wasn't that Gabe didn't trust Jim with him—if he'd wanted to kill him or turn him in, he'd have done it by now. They had a strange sort of connection, one that Gabe wasn't too proud to admit (at least to himself) he was jealous of.

He looked down at his hand gripping the bottle. He thought of Oswald's hands. Beautiful, strong, and delicate. An artist's dream.

Sometimes Gabe would watch Oswald's hands, dancing in the air during an argument or carefully fixing his tie.

He thought about how Oswald left his fingerprints on everything; the wine glass he twirled around while he stared off into space, making meticulous plans; the wooden table he drummed his fingers against impatiently; the handle of his umbrella. Everything Oswald touched, he left a mark on. And when he was dead and gone, the table wiped clean and his umbrella forgotten, his imprint would still be there.

Gabe took a swig and set his drink on the table, wiping the condensation along his fingerless gloves. He traced patterns on the leather, wondering what mark he could make on Oswald.

Gabe closed his eyes and imagined the fur-lined collar of Oswald's coat between his fingers as they sat together. If he reached down and covered his boss' hand with his own, if the other would like the contrast of soft leather and Gabe's calloused fingertips against his skin. If he'd let Gabe take his fingers in his mouth while his other hand roamed in-between Oswald's legs. Maybe a green, leather-clad hand would press Gabe's down, showing him where he needed to be touched (and please let him have remembered to lock the door).

To bring him to climax slowly, drawing out the pleasure as he kissed his neck, letting his mouth drag along his skin and taste sweat; and it wouldn't be Gordon's name he'd be saying, it'd be Gabe's, and that tiny whine with _Gabe's_ name on his lips would be etched in time; he'd have had that puny effect on the scheme of things. Even if he wasn't remembered, he'd know he was part of Oswald's life in a real, tangible way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Gloves: http://41.media.tumblr.com/4d188c75d3e41146d17e6555f7703540/tumblr_inline_o08wpabVV11qgzwva_500.png


End file.
